The Meeting
by The Straight Elf
Summary: Harry Potter meets the Avatar of Death in the Forest of Dean after escaping from the Ministry.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For some reason, I am fascinated by the Harry meets Death stories. So here's my rather pathetic attempt at it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, he wouldn't have been anywhere near as whiny. **

Harry Potter stumbled through the Forest of Dean, still queasy from seeing his best friend's arm splinched. He could still see in his mind the copious amounts of blood that poured from the wound, staining the snow a deep scarlet. Blood normally wouldn't bother Harry that much, but when it was from your best mate- who was currently missing an arm- things changed.

He felt a little bit guilty over leaving Hermione to deal with the mess alone, but he really needed a break. After the disastrous infiltration of the Ministry, it would be nice for just a few minutes alone. He really needed to think on things, particularly a heavy locket that was resting on his chest at the moment. Harry wanted to destroy the horcrux as soon as possible. Aside from the feeling of _wrongness_ that emanated from Voldemort's soul fragment, he felt sharp prickles throughout his scar just by being near it.

The teenager had no idea what effect it would have on the others. He doubted even Dumbledore could predict that. Harry really didn't want the locket to end up possessing one of his friends like the diary had possessed Ginny. For one thing, he didn't have a basilisk fang available, and he had no idea what other methods could be used. From what Hermione had said, only the darkest of dark curses would be able to harm the abomination.

It was these worries that caused him to trip over a gnarled root on his path. Harry cursed his inattentiveness as he fell onto the cold forest floor. After some fumbling for his glasses, which had been knocked askew by the fall, he looked around the clearing. He wouldn't put it past some of the Death Eaters to have somehow tracked their escape. Voldemort might be insane, but he was a genius in his youth. Surely he was capable of making some sort of tracker.

Content that nothing was around him, he began to make his way back to his friends. It wouldn't do for the "Chosen One" to get lost in a forest after all. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a cold, monotone voice call out from behind him,

"Hello, Harry Potter."

Harry spun around, already firing off several stunners in the direction of the voice. As he faced the mysterious voice, he heard each of his spells impact several trees. All he heard in response to his attack was a cold laugh. When he looked in the direction of the voice- still vigilant of his surroundings- he saw the oddest sight of his life.

A young teenager, who looked to be about fourteen, was standing idly right where the stunners should have hit. He had cold, black eyes that reminded Harry of Snape's, and was horribly pale. If it weren't for the neck-length onyx hair, the wizard would have thought the boy was an albino.

The boy was dressed in a gray robe that shimmered in a way reminiscent of Harry's own invisibility cloak, and was idly twirling a wand that was similar to Professor Dumbledore's. His eyes never left Harry.

Aside from his clothing and wand, the boy seemed to have no other possessions aside from, oddly enough, an hourglass that was made of a shiny black material and filled with a ghostly swirling substance. The boy held it tightly in his left hand.

Saying nothing, and still staring at Harry unblinkingly, the boy moved slightly closer. Harry kept a tight hold on his wand, ready to deflect any attack that came, but otherwise did nothing. As the boy drew closer, Harry thought he could hear whispering voices coming from the hourglass. The wizard was reminded of the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries. The thought chilled his blood. Harry didn't know who this boy was, but he was far more dangerous than he seemed. An aura of what Harry could only call creepiness hung heavy in the air around the boy, making him seem even more disturbing than Voldemort.

At least with the Dark Lord you just knew that he was a deranged psychopath. The dangerous feeling that oozed from the boy was more disturbing simply because it came from someone so young.

As the boy slowly moved even closer, Harry moved to intervene. Aiming his holly wand at the boy's frail looking chest, Harry decided to learn the stranger's intentions.

"Who are you, and what do you want? If you move any closer, I'll curse you."

The boy only chuckled humorlessly before responding in the same cold voice.

"Harry Potter, I will not deign to speak with you until you remove that abomination from around your neck." The boy began to stare at the horcrux with an almost hateful expression.

Although the fact that the boy knew what the locket was shocked Harry, he was stunned when a dull, pained screech sounded from the locket, which had begun to flail wildly on Harry's chest. Still confused, Harry removed the locket and threw it on a bare patch of ground.

The boy put his wand inside of his robe and wordlessly summoned the locket into an outstretched hand. Harry began to rush forward, not about to let some kid- regardless of how creepy he was- take the horcrux. The boy seemed to take no notice, and gave a cold smile at the horcrux as it landed into his pale hand. A scream of agony came from the locket, which began to release black, pungent smelling smoke. Harry could feel the dark magic leaving from the locket, and was too surprised to even attempt to take the horcrux back.

After a moment, the trail of smoke stopped and the boy carelessly tossed the locket onto the forest floor, seeming to no longer be interested in it. The boy withdrew the wand again and began to twirl it once more. His eyes locked onto Harry's own and the boy began to speak.

"My name has never been set in stone. Throughout my existence, I have been called many things. Thanatos. Pluto. Mictlantecuhtli. Ankou. Anubis. Santa Muerte." The boy glanced at Harry as if checking for recognition. Seeing none, he continued. "But in the recent times, I have been known as the Grim Reaper. Throughout my existence, I have always been known as the same primal force." The boy stared at Harry with cold eyes once more.

"I have always been known as Death."

Harry recoiled back, still keeping his wand trained on the boy…or Reaper. He wasn't sure if the boy was completely insane or if he was somehow speaking the truth. The boy didn't seem insane- then again, Tom Riddle hadn't either- and given the chilling aura that felt like a dementor's when you took away the crushing feeling despair, and general oddness, Harry was almost inclined to believe him.

A brief flicker of amusement shot through the onyx eyes before being quenched. Once again the boy spoke.

"It seems you are in a quandary, Harry Potter. I have no need to prove my identity to you. My coming here is merely a curiosity, nothing more. It would be…nice, for lack of a better term, if that curiosity could be sated. And you, Harry Potter, are the key to sating that curiosity. Therefore, I will make an…allowance in your case."

The boy looked down at his wand, which he was still twirling idly, with his ordinary bored expression. Harry gasped as the foot-long wand became a spinning scythe. The scythe was made of the same kind of dark wood as the wand, but had ancient, primal looking runes adorning the smooth, worn wood. The scythe's blade was made of the same material as the hourglass, and seemed to release the same whispers the hourglass did.

Even though Harry didn't particularly want to believe the boy was some sort of representation of Death, he felt he didn't have much of a choice once he looked at the evidence. Not that he wouldn't be rushing off to St. Mungo's the second this war was over. After all the crap that happened to him, he felt like a mental healer would do wonders for him. For now, though, it seemed like he would be talking to an imaginary person. Someone he wished was imaginary, at least.

"Ask your questions then. I really want to get back to my friends."

The avatar of Death smiled wanly.

"Ah yes, your friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." Death stared coldly at him for a moment, deeply unsettling Harry. If Snape ever had a child, Harry was sure it would be something like this.

"Your intervention in their lives has interfered with my duties. You were never meant to survive the so-called killing curse. Your own survival interfered by itself. The fact that everyone associated with you has had their own destinies rewritten is most irritating." Death seemed to be highly annoyed, but caught himself.

"I did not journey here to speak of my own work. Come closer."

Harry hesitantly inched closer, feeling a massive amount of the chilling aura engulf him. He didn't hesitate, however. Not even the famed Gryffindor courage would do much to Death, after all.

The wizard flinched as Death touched his scar with a long, pale finger. He barely held back a scream as he felt ice flood through his veins, seeming to freeze him. That was nothing compared to the overwhelming pain that erupted in his scar, a thousand times worse than it had ever burned around Voldemort.

It felt like the torture went on for hours, although Harry knew it was really only a few seconds. When Death removed his finger from Harry's forehead, he immediately dropped to the ground, gasping from the aftershocks. For a moment he heard nothing except for his own pounding heartbeat until Death broke the silence.

"I have my answers. Harry Potter, I pity you."

Harry noticed a barely perceptible sense of regret in the boy's words. He looked up to see Death staring into his hourglass intently. When Harry stared at it, the shifting, ghostly substance that swirled inside of it seemed to solidify into miniscule, pure white stones. Harry noticed that the hourglass was nearly empty. Death seemed to notice Harry's staring and began to speak once more.

"I will leave the one tool that will allow you to escape me inside of you, Harry Potter. You are interesting, I admit. To see you push the boundaries and laws of my realm will be…educational. "

Harry cocked an eyebrow. He knew that this was Death, but he expected him to be a bit more concerned about changing the Wizarding World. Death gave one last glance at Harry and walked away. The wizard froze for a moment, wondering if he could get any more help. Death had destroyed a horcrux, and Harry could at least try to learn how. If the boy's animosity towards the soul fragments was anything to go by, he would be happy to help.

"Wait," Harry called out at the retreating figure of Death. The boy turned, still idly spinning his scythe in between pale fingers. "Could you tell me how to destroy the horcruxes, or help me at least?"

Death's answer was unhesitant and showed no remorse.

"No. Your destiny is your own to discover and walk down. I have interfered enough already."

Harry looked away, downcast. He almost missed Death's last words. Unlike before, Death spoke in a whispery voice very unlike his normal monotone.

"Know this, Harry Potter; I am partial to neither you nor Tom Riddle. Whichever one of you falls, I will accept you with open arms. All are equal in death."

The wizard stared at Death, who had begun to stride away from the clearing. He didn't understand or like the boy, but he had destroyed a horcrux. Harry needed to repay him in some way. Harry hadn't even begun to speak when Death called out his parting words.

"Harry Potter, should you wish to repay me, destroy the rest of the abominations. Make Tom Riddle mortal once more. Whether you or Tom Riddle falls in the final confrontation between you, he will one day join me. Farewell, Harry Potter. Remember that nothing is an impossibility."

With that, the avatar of Death faded. Harry spotted the spinning scythe shifting into the familiar sight of a wand.

Were it not for the slight pains still wracking Harry's body, the wizard would have thought it all a dream. Shaking his head, he left for the tent. He was sure Hermione was worrying about him.


	2. Chapter 2: Death

A/N: Last thing with my Harry Potter meets Death two-shot. Of course, if anyone likes it I'll probably come up with another chapter of it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, he would actually keep the Elder Wand and do something good with it, instead of getting rid of it.

Harry woke up in an empty train station with a pounding head ache. A piteous moan came from under a bench to his left, and he snapped his head in its direction. He wrinkled his nose at what he saw. It looked like the form Voldemort had been stuck in during fourth year. In other words, it looked like a malformed baby that had all of its skin scraped off.

Despite himself, Harry felt pity for the thing. He slowly walked over towards it, and kneeled next to it. The wizard frowned slightly when it seemed to recoil from his mere presence, as if it were in pain from being in proximity with Harry. When the wizard, still curious, tried to touch the thing, he heard a cold, monotone voice rise up from behind him.

"Harry Potter, I suggest you do not touch that…abomination." The voice held a note of disgust as he looked at the thing, which had curled up into a ball.

Harry groaned. If this was who he thought it was- and he was quite sure it was, for there was no mistaking that penetrating cold aura- then he was truly dead. No more second chances, no more ways to finish the fight with Tommy-boy.

_At least_, he thought hopefully, _his sacrifice would protect those he loved. _

"I believe it is polite to face those you are speaking to, Harry Potter."

The wizard turned around to look Death in the eye. Death appeared exactly as he had before, and was spinning the Elder Wand in meaningless patterns as he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived. The silvery Cloak of Invisibility was draped around the gaunt figure, giving him an otherworldly look. Harry noticed that the only Hallow missing was the Resurrection Stone. Instead, Death had kept his hourglass.

The dark teenager seemed to notice Harry's stare and began to speak.

"I believe that you have learned of the "Deathly Hallows", yes?" It was a statement, not a question.

"They are curious artifacts. The Hallows were not made by myself, of course. I would never be so foolish as to trust mere mortals with my own creations." Death ignored Harry's indignant scowl at that, "But they do draw their power from my very own essence. I cannot deny that your ancestor, Ignotus Peverell, and his brothers were great wizards. Foolish, but great."

Harry was suddenly struck by the similarity of that statement to the remark Ollivander had made in their first meeting. The teenager sitting in front of him was mysterious enough to be the old wand maker's child, so Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised.

"But," Death continued in his monotone voice, "I am off-topic. I did not replace Albus Dumbledore for no reason. I am here to speak with the Master of Death."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Death leveled another icy gaze at him. "Don't be foolish, Harry Potter. You know the legend of the Three Brothers. The fact that I am speaking to you is enough to confirm part of that ancient tale.

You have done what no other has done. You have united the Deathly Hallows, and in doing so are my," for the first time since Harry had first encountered the personification, Death seemed to be showing real emotion. In this case, it was a mix of disgust and annoyance. ", so-called Master."

At first, Harry wanted to start laughing. The thought that he was the Master over the force that had plagued his life since he was an infant was simply too crazy to think about. He smiled at Death, half-expecting the being to burst out laughing.

Harry blinked at that. The thought of Death laughing was too weird even for his screwed up head to comprehend. He stared at Death, meeting the empty tunnels of the being's eyes with his own emerald gaze.

The wizard saw nothing but complete and total seriousness in the entity's eyes. Harry's mirth dried up when he realized that the being wasn't joking, or playing any sort of prank on him.

"You may refuse your position, Harry Potter. Should you choose to do so, the power of the Hallows shall be broken, and you will return to the mortal realm unchanged. The final confrontation with Tom Riddle will occur with your own strength against that of your nemesis."

Death began to idly twirl his wand, which transformed into Death's scythe. The entity continued to twirl it and seemed to be tracking the shining obsidian blade with his onyx eyes. He continued to do this for several seconds, seeming to find a sort of twisted peace from it.

Just as Harry was about to break the awkward silence, Death returned his gaze to the confused wizard.

"Or," he said, "you may accept your position. Should you choose to take the Hallows, you will return to the mortal realm as the Master of Death, still Harry Potter…but more. The final confrontation will be a completely mortal Tom Riddle against the very thing that he fears most. This decision is your own."

At the end of his monologue, Death transformed the massive scythe back into the Elder Wand, and held it out to Harry.

Harry was torn between taking the wand and leaving it. If he left the wand, he might lose to Tommy-boy, and doom the Wizarding World. But if he took it, he didn't know what would happen to him. He didn't know if he would even be Harry Potter anymore. Harry didn't know if he would remember his friends, or the Weasleys, or any of the people he had met at Hogwarts.

He didn't want power, and he didn't want to leave his friends. For a moment, he was going to ignore the offered Hallow and go back as himself.

But then that small voice in the back of his head acted up.

_What if this is the power the Dark Lord knows not? What if it isn't love and Dumbledore was wrong? Are you willing to sacrifice your friends and family just because you don't want power? Are you truly so selfish that you would allow everyone you know to die just because you wouldn't sacrifice yourself for them?_

Harry's mind was a whirlwind as he thought over the situation, weighing the pros and cons of taking up Death's offer.

The faces of his friends flashed through his mind, each dead. That was when his mind was made up. If he became something other than Harry Potter, so be it, as long as he could protect the ones he cared about.

With a pale hand, Harry took the Elder Wand from Death's grip. For a second, nothing happened.

Then a sharp pain appeared in the wizard's hand. It wasn't anything compared to the cruciatus, but it still attracted Harry's attention. His green eyes widened as he looked down, and saw primal looking runes glowing on the Elder Wand.

Panicked and confused, Harry looked up at Death. The entity looked slightly confused, but seemed more concerned with his hand. Harry looked down, and saw that Death's hand was rapidly transforming into black mist, not unlike that which came out of the horcrux Death had destroyed for him.

The mist slowly began to seep into Harry's hand, drenching it in the blackness. Harry hissed as he felt it enclose his hand, it felt like a thousand ghosts were standing inside of his hand. The mist's icy feeling began to creep up his entire arm.

Harry returned his gaze to Death's body and saw that it was beginning to change into the icy mist, deteriorating faster and faster. Death was wearing a pleased smirk.

"It seems that we will be far more intertwined than I had thought, Harry Potter."

The identities of Death and Harry Potter ended at that moment, becoming a new being. Harry was in control, but the very essence of Death was so intertwined within him that he was someone different, someone new. Still Harry Potter, but changed.

Harry awoke to tears. He noted that his robes were completely soaked, likely from whoever was the source of the crying. When he heard the distinctive accent and the smell of the wild on the shoulder he was being carried on, he knew who had him.

That didn't explain why Hagrid was carrying him, or why he heard delighted cackles and raucous laughter around him.

Drawing upon Death's wealth of knowledge, Harry expanded his field. He knew everyone of the beings around him- their names, dates of birth and when they would die.

Harry was rather satisfied to know that Bellatrix would die tonight. He paid little attention to the others, as he found something far more interesting. Tom Riddle was by far the vilest thing he had ever felt. His soul was so mutilated that he was barely tethered to the mortal realm.

The part of Harry that was Death felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the thought of ending the filthy abomination, and removing it from the mortal realm forever. Harry simply waited as the fool brought him out and showed him to the defenders of Hogwarts as a trophy.

He was surprised when the anguished cries of his teachers and friends barely had an effect on him, but simply wrote it off. There were far more important things than worrying about their feelings.

As the battle was joined, Hagrid was forced to drop Harry. Utilizing the opportunity, Harry put on the Cloak, and slipped throughout the battle. He was rather surprised when the house elves joined, led b Kreacher, but it wasn't nearly surprising as when Molly Weasley struck down Bellatrix Lestrange.

When did she learn how to outfight Tom Riddle's best death eater, Harry thought. It wasn't as though she'd had much dueling experience before.

He took his mind off of it and began to move towards Tom Riddle. His reign of terror would soon be over.

The Dark Lord was enraged by the death of Bellatrix, and promptly began throwing killing curses in every direction. One flew towards a third-year that was standing next to Harry, who put his hand out in front of the green curse. The deadly spell fizzled out when it neared him, and Harry pulled off the Cloak. There was no longer a need for it.

Tom Riddle's scarlet, snakelike eyes widened in surprise and rage when he saw his formerly dead nemesis. A scream of anger erupted from the abomination, and he aimed the Elder Wand at Harry.

Harry drew Draco's wand and copied Tom Riddle's stance. The Dark Lord screamed at Harry, "You will not escape this time, Harry Potter! I will destroy you!"

"Your reign of terror is at an end, Tom Riddle. There are no more death eaters, and your power is broken. Today, you shall finally meet that which you fear most."

Tom Riddle slashed his wand through the air, screaming "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry disarmed the Dark Lord, and watched with a small smile as the Elder Wand landed in his hand. It had a warmth that was similar to his old phoenix wand, but also possessed a balancing icy aura. He strode over to the fallen, twisted corpse of Tom Riddle and changed the Elder Wand into his scythe.

Ignoring the gasps and confused looks from the onlookers, Harry drove the obsidian blade deep into the former Dark Lord's husk of a body, sending the torn, mutilated soul into Limbo. A small smirk grew on his face as he imagined Tom Riddle in his powerless, shriveled body in constant agony.

He changed his scythe back into the Wand, and began to walk to the Forbidden Forest. Harry ignored the cries of those who had defended Hogwarts, disregarding their pleas for him to return to his friends.

He had a stone to recover.


	3. Chapter 3: Last Duties

A/N: One of the last two parts of this story. Note: Sorry if the story isn't completely out of the book. I just wanted to get the basic idea and did it from memory and a few excerpts from the Harry Potter wiki. Just think of it as Harry's own spin on it.

The part of him that was still a sad, lonely boy turned the Stone over three times, summoning forth the shades of his loved ones.

He listened to their whispers, their talk about love. He indulged that last, tiny part of what he once used to be. For a while, that small part of him was content.

Then he banished their shades back to where they should be.

Harry ignored the frantic pleas that emerged from their souls as they were banished, and merely stared at the Stone for a moment.

He could remember how, when he was searching for the horcruxes and Hallows, how the Resurrection Stone had always been the Hallow he desired most, the thing that enraptured his imagination. He could remember the glee that washed over the fear when he first used the Stone and saw his parents for the first time.

Now he saw no purpose in it. The dead should remain that way, never to be involved in the affairs of the living. They should be left with that slumber, that eternal peace.

But he could still not control that tiny, broken piece of him that remained the orphan, the weak, abused boy that had been so afraid of Tom Riddle.

It was rare now that he succumbed to the Stone's temptation, and soon he would never use it again. With a thought, he changed the Stone back into his Hourglass.

Harry ignored the whispers that continued to emanate from the Hallow, and he absentmindedly twirled the Elder Wand as he moved on to fulfill his duties.

The dead could never wait.

Harry found himself sitting on a log in a small forest, absentmindedly twirling the Elder Wand. He held his Hourglass in his left hand as he watched the ethereal ripples emerge from where the Wand touched. Its mysteries no longer amazed him, but they were quite entrancing.

He looked up when he heard a stick snap. His black hood hid his face, and he gave a humorless smile as he saw who had disturbed him.

A small boy with wide eyes and mousy brown hair was staring at him. After a few seconds of silence, Harry gave a greeting.

"Hello child. What brings you here?"

The boy's eyes got even wider, but he managed to stammer a response back. "I...I'm just exploring, sir."

Harry continued to twirl the Elder Wand, noticing how the boy seemed as enraptured with it as all mortals were. "I believe it is polite to give your name to your elders, boy."

His cold smile grew as the boy blushed. It was far too easy to manipulate the child.

"My name is Teddy Lupin!" The boy said proudly. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "What's your name?"

It seemed that his duties were correct in taking him here - this was the question he'd been waiting for. "My name is Harold Peverell." Harry made a show of looking of looking around the woods. "Where are your guardians, Teddy?"

Teddy looked downwards in what Harry knew was shame. "I kinda left her behind. But I know Aunt Andy will get here soon!"

"Well, it's very dangerous past this clearing, so you should wait for your aunt. But," Harry said, "would you like to hear a story? It might help you pass the time."

The boy nodded with a look of trust in his eyes and sat down on a rock next to Harry's own seat. That small part of Harry – the _weak_ part, in Harry's opinion – was slightly concerned about how trusting Teddy was of strangers.

Harry quashed it. "Now," he said, "have you ever heard the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Teddy shook his head. "No, Aunt Andy never let me read it. She said it made her sad."

The man smiled as he began his story. "Once, long ago, there were three brothers. They were great and powerful wizards. One day, they came upon a river which many people had died trying to cross.

But they drew upon their knowledge and created a bridge, and safely crossed the treacherous river.

Then Death, who was enraged at being cheated of three victims, made the Brothers a cunning deal. He professed admiration for the Brothers' intelligence, and would give them anything they wanted. Two of the brothers wished to further humiliate Death, but the third was wary.

The first brother, who had a great love of power, wished for a wand more powerful than any in existence. Death obliged, and crafted him a wand from the wood of an elder tree. The first brother was delighted with the wand, and left to test its power.

The second brother, who was an arrogant man, wished for an artifact that would allow him to recall others from Death's domain. Death picked up a nearby stone and handed it to him.

The third brother, who was suspicious of Death, asked for something that would allow him to leave that meeting without being followed by Death. Death grudgingly gave the third brother his own invisibility cloak.

The first brother left and boasted of his new wand, and killed one of his enemies with it. Its power could not protect him in his sleep, however, and the first brother was killed in his sleep by another wizard. The thief took the wand and left. And so Death claimed the first brother.

The second brother found that his beloved had died, and used his stone to bring her back. She was a mere specter, and was pained by the mortal world. The second brother felt as if there was a veil separating them, and took his own life. And so Death claimed the second brother.

The third brother hid beneath his cloak, and Death could not find him. He lived to a ripe age, and when he wearied of life, he took off his cloak and greeted Death as a friend and equal."

Teddy listened to Harry's tale in wonderment, and was noticeably disappointed when it ended. He turned his head when he heard Aunt Andy calling for him, and smiled at her when she stumbled into the clearing.

He turned his head to introduce her to Harold, but saw that he was gone. A confused Teddy stared at the spot the man had just been occupying as Aunt Andy scolded him for running off.

Harry twirled the Elder Wand as he waited. His duties had taken him to the same small forest, in the same clearing where he had told Teddy Lupin the Tale of the Three Brothers.

As he waited for Teddy Lupin to arrive, he changed his Hourglass into the Stone. Absentmindedly, he turned the Stone. The shades of Harry's parents emerged and whispered to him, filling his ears with promises of love and kindness.

He allowed that small part of him to indulge in the attention of the shades before he felt Teddy Lupin enter the area. Harry casually banished the shades back to whence they came.

It was not time for Teddy Lupin to know of the Hallows.

When Teddy Lupin entered the clearing, he was much larger than he had been the last time they'd met. The boy froze when he saw the hooded figure on the log, and reached for his wand.

"Hello, Teddy Lupin," Harry said. "Do you not remember me?"

Teddy appraised Harry carefully, all the while aiming his wand at the hooded man.

"You know, Teddy Lupin," Harry said with the barest hint of amusement in his voice, "this reminds me quite a bit of a situation I once found myself in. Although," here he stared at the boy, "I was in your position."

"I remember you," Teddy said slowly, never letting his wand arm waver, "but I looked for you in every book, and there is no Harold Peverell."

Underneath his hood, Harry gave a humorless smile. "Not everything can be found in books, Teddy Lupin. Some facts must be found through intuition and intelligence, not by mindlessly poring over books."

"But have no fear," he continued, "I bear you no harm, and I applaud you for being so resourceful at such a young age. Now," here his voice adopted an interested tone, "how was your first year at Hogwarts? I understand you were sorted into Slytherin, just like Andromeda Tonks. It is a worthy house – although I have had to escort so many of their fallen as of late."

Teddy backed away slowly. "Why do you care? You don't have any connections to me. And how do you know what house me and Aunt Andy are in?"

Harry chuckled coldly. "I know many things, Teddy Lupin. And I care because my duties demand it."

In the resulting silence that Harry allowed, he began to absentmindedly twirl the Elder Wand. It entranced the young wizard, inciting a strong desire for its power inside of him. The boy was slowly becoming enraptured with the artifact, losing all notice of the surrounding world.

"Besides, Teddy Lupin," Harry said, tearing the boy out of his trance, "some responsibilities cannot be severed, no matter how much we wish otherwise."

The wizard was confused by the man's statement, and decided to think about it later. But for now… "Why do you always call me Teddy Lupin? My name is Teddy or Ted."

Death's eyes glinted beneath his hood. "I apologize, Teddy Lupin, it is merely an old habit of mine. But," he said as he felt Andromeda Tonks grow near, "I must take my leave now. We will meet again."

Teddy heard his aunt shout out for him and looked towards the noise. When he looked back, the boy cursed as he realized that Harold had disappeared.

Harry was sitting in a seat at the Slytherin table in Hogwarts' great hall, unnoticed by all. He ignored the food laid out upon the table and contented himself with twirling the Elder Wand.

Andromeda Tonks was sitting next to him, watching the last remnant of her shattered family become an adult. She was crying, to Harry's chagrin.

He indulged that small, shrinking weak part of him. Absentmindedly, he turned the Stone several times, summoning the shades of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. They smiled gratefully at him, and filled his ears with whispers of gratitude.

They were ignored. He watched the stage with cold eyes as Minerva McGonagall read the list of graduating seventh years. Harry watched as each came up and received a speech about their merits and contributions from the Headmistress, ignoring the majority of students.

He noticed a girl near the back of the line with white-blonde hair and features that he assumed were attractive, considering the glances she was receiving. And from the disapproving glances of some of the teachers, she was not supposed to be there.

Victoire Weasley. Born May 2nd, 2000. Daughter of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Would die August 20th, 2109.

He dismissed her then. There was nothing else he needed to know about her. He refocused his attention onto Teddy Lupin, whom had been called forward. Harry's eyes glinted as the excited whispers of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin filled his ears,

Harry listened to the long speech Minerva McGonagall gave about the boy's many merits, and how he had been head boy as well as one of the most successful students the school had seen in the last century.

He ignored the whispers of the dead that filled his ears, each remarking how proud they were of the boy, and that they hoped he would go places.

When Teddy Lupin, who was remarkably composed despite his slightly red face, left the great hall Harry followed. He turned the Stone as he followed Teddy Lupin outside, banishing the shades.

Teddy Lupin was leaning on the wall with his head hanging as Harry silently approached. He stood there for a several seconds, merely observing.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Hello, Teddy Lupin." Harry almost smiled at the boy as he focused on him, raising his wand at him. The boy realized who it was after a moment, and slowly lowered his wand.

"Ah," Teddy said wryly, "I should have known that you'd be here. You always seem to turn up when I'm least expecting it. So why are you here this time? Your vague "duties" or have you actually decided to stop messing with my head?"

Harry twirled the Elder Wand as he thought of what he would say. He decided it would bring him some small source of amusement if he gave Teddy Lupin small hints of a much greater truth. "My reasons are my own, of course. But you can attribute my appearance to my duties, as vague and mysterious as they might seem to you."

"But," Harry said as he transformed the Elder Wand into his Scythe, "today I am here to illuminate some of the mysteries that hover around me." Harry ignored the astonished look on Teddy Lupin's face as he saw the apparent miracle of transfiguration, and leaned his weight upon the ebony handle. "Do you remember the first time I spoke to you, when you were a mere child of seven? Do you remember the story I told you?"

"Of course," Teddy said, recalling the memories that had always seemed far too vivid, "you told me the Tale of the Three Brothers, something that Aunt Andy certainly didn't appreciate."

"Ah yes, dear Andromeda Tonks. It was such a shame about her family. I remember them well."

Teddy took the bait. "What do you know about my family," he asked curiously, "did you know my parents?"

Harry gave a cold smile, sending a strike of fear through Teddy, although he didn't know why. "Yes," Harry said in a nostalgic tone, "I suppose you could say that. Although I never truly knew them until after their unfortunate demise."

Teddy glared at him, slightly confused by the strange response. Harry frowned slightly beneath his hood as that tiny, shrinking piece of him struck. He changed the Hourglass, which had been hidden innocuously in his left sleeve, back into the Stone.

"Let us leave this subject behind. Do you remember much of my story?" Harry asked. He shifted his weight as Teddy Lupin's mind went back to the Tale, hearing the ethereal tones of Harry's voice as he spoke of the Three Brothers.

"I know you do, Teddy Lupin. I've been told that I'm quite a…riveting story teller. You know about the three artifacts claimed by the Brothers. But today you will learn that not all stories are mere fairy tales. Think of this as a birthday present, Teddy Lupin, to repay you for all of the ones that I have missed."

Harry turned the Stone, once again summoning forth the shades of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Frantic whispers of gratitude filled his ears as they turned to the stunned boy.

As they began to speak to their child, Harry felt that small part of him flood with contentment. He ruthlessly quelled the feelings and turned away. There was no reason for him to listen to what the shades and the boy had to say.

Besides, he knew everything he wished. The mysteries of a conversation between two shades and their child were hardly interesting to him.

Harry's glowing green eyes glinted as he heard for the ecstatic whispers of the shades and the happy chattering of Teddy Lupin. He let them continue on for a time, gave Teddy Lupin some small piece of the life he could have lived. Soon, he knew he must move on, despite the protesting part of him that would soon wither away.

He turned the Stone, feeling nothing as he heard the anguished pleas of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin to let them stay just one moment longer with their son, let him know just one more thing about his parents.

Harry disappeared from the corridor, not listening to the cries of loss that Teddy Lupin released when his parents disappeared.

Death stepped into the door, ignoring the crowd of redheads and metamorphmagi. He twirled the Elder Wand as he observed the figure that was lying in the large bed, nearly smothered by the mass of sheets covering him.

He spread his aura of despair throughout the crowd, causing each to embarrassedly mutter excuses as to why they need to leave. When the last of the wizards left, Death awoke the old man.

"Ted Lupin. Born April 4th, 1998. Son of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. Will die on February 13th, 2111. Awaken, and meet your fate."

The old man tiredly opened his bleary eyes, looking around in confusion as he noticed everyone had left his bedside. "That's odd," Ted Lupin said humorously," I could have sworn that there were a dozen people crying over my slowly failing body."

Death waved his hand at the door, causing black and grey strands of energy to cover it. No one would interrupt them.

"Hello, Ted Lupin. It has been a long time since we have last spoken."

Ted's brown eyes found the now visible black-robed figure of Death at the foot of his bed. A few small strands of black flashed through his eyes and hair before they faded away, leaving nothing but a tired old man.

"Ah, it's you again. I am somewhat unsurprised that you come to me on my death bed. Harold Peverell always seems to barge into my life when I least want him. So what brings you here? I've been waiting for so many years now…"

"Your powers are nearly gone." Stated Death. "The magic that lives inside of you and gives you the power that you have always known is leaving. I suppose you know what this means?"

"Of course," Ted laughed, "it means that my life is about to be over. Every metamorphmagus knows that when we are unable to make the smallest alteration to our bodies without cost that we are about to die. It is a fact that has been burned into our instincts. We might not learn it from a book, or from curious scholars that have observed our kind, but we _know."_

"It would have been a disappointment had you not known. However, there are many things that you do not know. I see it fit that you know some of these mysteries."

Death lowered his hood for the first time in Ted Lupin's presence, revealing the teenaged face that hadn't changed over the years. Cold green eyes, glowing with an unseen power, looked at Ted Lupin. The face was expressionless, revealing nothing.

But the thing that stood out the most to the aged eyes of Ted Lupin was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt that was centered on his forehead.

"Harry Potter," he breathed, his eyes widening in amazement. It had been more than a century since his victory over Voldemort, but he was still widely revered amongst the English wizards as a national hero. The teenager was practically a legend. Of course, Ted Lupin had a much more personal reason for knowing about him. "I suppose this explains your intervention in my life. Even you, the Man-Who-Fled," the old man rolled his eyes, "couldn't escape his godfatherly duties."

"No," said Death, "I could not. But I will soon be free of them, free to pursue my true duties."

"And what would those be, hmm?" Ted Lupin asked. "Will you finally illuminate me, or will I die with a puzzle on my mind?"

Death smiled, an unnaturally cold one for someone whom Teddy had practically idolized throughout the early years of his life. "It disappoints me that such a famed Slytherin was unable to piece together the pieces. In each of our meetings I have given you some small hint of my true nature. A weak part of me demanded that I did so."

"Oh really?" asked Ted Lupin, who raised an eyebrow at the apparent teenager. "I'm afraid that I must have missed them in the process of being enraptured by a story, trying to interrogate you, and being allowed to see my dead parents. Although I must admit that I have decided that you possess the Resurrection Stone – or at least something similar."

"And you would be correct in that assumption. But for now I will tell you of the hints I left for you – that you absolutely failed to recognize. In our first meeting, I spoke to you of the Three Brothers, and gave you the name Peverell. Had you thought to ask Hermione Granger, who was rather close to your family, she would have made an instant connection. The Peverell Brothers were the three brothers of the story, and have been intricately tied up in the legend of the Deathly Hallows for more than a millennium.

In our second meeting, I gave you a small hint, one that no part of me expected you to recognize. I told you in passing that I had escorted many of your house – hardly something I would expect you to connect to anything else.

It was our last meeting that my identity was most obvious. Not only did I change my wand into my more traditional tool, but I brought back the shades of your parents. Perhaps you were astounded by meeting your parents, or perhaps you are simply incapable of putting the pieces of a simple puzzle together."

After his monotonous monologue, devoid of any of the charm or wonder he had put into his words during the other times he had spoken to Ted Lupin, Death stared at Ted Lupin with flat green eyes.

"So Ted Lupin, who am I?"

The old man's mind quickly put the pieces together as they were revealed to him, easily arriving to an impossible conclusion. "You are Death, from the story!" Ted Lupin breathed.

Death inclined his head in a sort of acceptance. "In a way. But I am so many things. I have been called the Boy-Who-Lived, the Grim Reaper, freak, Thanatos, and so many others. But Death is what I am, what makes up my very essence."

"But I am different from the Death in the story. It is true that the Hallows draw upon my own power, and are permanently bound to me, but I was never involved in that story, nor was my…predecessor."

The old man looked curiously at the teenager, but didn't question further. He figured that it would probably be far too confusing to understand, and that was only if Death…or Harry Potter…or whatever this was would actually answer him.

Besides, he wasn't quite convinced that he wasn't simply dreaming this on his death bed. The old man had always had an active imagination, after all.

Death released the small bonds that held Ted Lupin to life, and watched as Ted Lupin's eyes began to close. "Ted Lupin." Said Death slowly, "Born April 4th, 1998. Son of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. Died at 4:53, on February 13th, 2111.

Ted Lupin's eyes finally closed as Death finished his proclamation. He saw a quick, bright flash of light as Death said the last word, and felt something slowly easing out of him.

A small, peaceful smile was on the old man's face as his spirit departed from this world.

Teddy Lupin stared in awe at his hands, which were smooth and pristine. They no longer had the familiar wrinkles that he had tried so hard to change back.

A wild thought struck him…was it possible? He channeled the familiar power throughout his body, changing his hair to a mousy brown, while his body stretched and changed.

He was in his favorite form, the one he had spent the rest of his life in. Teddy looked out at his surroundings, which seemed to shift from a blank void into his old home. The man blinked as he saw the dead that he had once loved appear, each wearing a wide smile on their face.

Teddy only had eyes for two people, however. He ignored his old teachers and friends, even the other members of his family when he saw them. The man blinked as his mother and father rushed at him, engulfing him in a hug. He returned the hug, closing his eyes as the whispers of love and sorrow washed over him.

He had never been happier.

Death left the hospital, hood up and black robes trailing the floor as he strode through the empty corridors. He heard the whispers of those who had died flood through his ears, full of pleas and empty promises.

He crushed them, banishing the whispers. The ghosts that walked the halls shivered and looked in his direction fearfully as he passed, whispering to each other as Death passed.

Some tried to speak to him, tried to plead with him to give them the choice again. Death banished their whispers just as he had those of the dead.

He was free of the duties that he had been bound to, and as the last connection he had to the mortal world passed on, that small, weak part of him crumbled into nothingness.

He was free to perform his true duties, and as the whispers of Lily Evans and James Potter finally ceased speaking to him, he vanished.

The dead could never wait.


End file.
